


pack up the moon and dismantle the sun

by AmazingGrace36



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Discussion of Abortion, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Internalized Misogyny, Miscarriage, No Romance, Pregnancy, Rape Culture, Rule 63, Suicidal Thoughts, Unplanned Pregnancy, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazingGrace36/pseuds/AmazingGrace36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Bilbo Baggins leaves the Shire with the company of Thorin Oakenshield in hopes that she can leave a traumatic incident behind. But the trauma follows her in what is, quite possibly, the worst way imaginable. </p>
<p>Rape/non-con, miscarriage, and abortion themes.</p>
<p>UPDATE: Ch. 1 rewritten as of 2/18/18</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. safety does not exist

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers! Please pay attention to the warnings; this story will get seriously unpleasant. Also, all chapters are unbeta'd and my auto-correct is not yet Hobbit-friendly, so my apologies for any mistakes. If you spot some, don't hesitate to point them out to me.
> 
> Non-explicit rape/non-con and, in later chapters, suicide, abortion, and miscarriage themes 
> 
> In other news, the title for this comes from one of my favorite poems, Funeral Blues by W. H. Auden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: 2/18/18 - Hello, readers! My apologies for the long hiatus. I am in the process of rewriting this entire story and will slowly be replacing chapters. For those of you who've read the original chapters, I hope you'll find the story more enjoyable and better written. For those of you who are new to this story, please note which chapters have/haven't been updated and read accordingly, or you may find yourself confused.

**Then:**

No one married their childhood sweetheart. Parents reminded their faunts of this often enough, throughout childhood and, of course, into the tween years. Hobbits loved easily and freely, and faunts were no exception. They became infatuated at the drop of a hat, with their age-mates and with their siblings' friends. Older Hobbits always looked on fondly as the young ones crushed on each other.

"Now remember," they would warn kindly in response to enthusiastic declarations of love, "no one marries their childhood sweetheart."

Bilbo Baggins, who had developed a crush on Fredegar Proudfoot at an early age and never looked at any other Hobbit twice, always rolled her eyes when her parents said this.

Her parents, of course, had been childhood sweethearts. It was one of Bilbo's favorite stories and she asked for it to be told at bedtime at least once a week when she was younger.

Bungo Baggins had always known that there was no one else for him but Belladonna Took. Belladonna hadn't always been sure. She had spent her childhood infatuated with Bungo and then Hugo Boffin, Bungo again, Gorbadoc Brandybuck, Bungo, and Ruby Bolger. Despite this uncertainty, Bungo, after coming of age, had built Bag End for her and then waited patiently while she went off adventuring with a Wizard. And finally, when she had returned and decided that yes, Bungo was the one for her, they had settled down together.

To their only child, this story seemed to be a perfect illustration of the path that she and Fredegar would take. They would be childhood sweethearts, then she would spend a year exploring Middle Earth while Fredegar remained in the Shire (like proper Hobbits were meant to do), and then she would return and the two of them would settle down and begin a family.

It rather came as a surprise to her when her life veered dramatically off this path.

.

**Now:**

When a Wizard finally came round the Shire again, looking to steal an unsuspecting Hobbit away for adventuring, Bilbo Baggins was no longer a young faunt with stars in her eyes, her head in the clouds, and a heart full of joyful optimism. She had been disillusioned and knew now that life never worked out the way one hoped. Life, she now understood, was only a series of disappointments, one after another.

She was far from the Hobbit she had once been, and was no longer the Hobbit that Gandalf had come in search of.

When the tall figure appeared in her garden, it took Bilbo several moments to realize who he was and why he seemed so familiar. She stared at him, taking in the casual way he leaned on his staff and raised an expectant eyebrow at her. Then suddenly it occurred to her; this was Gandalf the Gray, and Bilbo had not seen him in over a decade.

Her memories of that time were hazy, but Bilbo remembered catching a glimpse of the Gray Wizard as a cousin half carried her, sick with grief and malnutrition, away from her parents' freshly laid graves.

Her grandfather had thanked Gandalf and the leader of the Rangers for coming when the Shire had called. For driving away the white wolves and bringing food to the besieged Hobbits. For saving them.

Gandalf had looked sadly at the grove where Bungo and Belladonna Baggins had just been laid to rest and had then turned his gaze to Bilbo's tear-streaked face as her cousin gently prodded her further up the path.

"I'm sorry I did not come in time."

Now, eleven years later, Bilbo puffed thoughtfully on her pipe, feeling the gaze of the very same Wizard upon her once more. Forcing herself to stop staring, she asked, “Can I help you?”

"That remains to be seen,” said the Wizard, pushing up the brim of his gray hat. “I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."

"An adventure, you say?" mused Bilbo. She peered up at the Wizard that was towering over her and wondered if he started all conversations in such a way, with no introduction whatsoever.

"You are Gandalf, aren't you?" Bilbo asked, though she knew without a doubt that it was him. "The wandering Wizard, who made such excellent fireworks?"

Gandalf looked rather pleased with this, and said as much, though he also grumbled a bit at only being remembered for his fireworks.

Bilbo remembered him for much more than just his fireworks, of course, but such things were not discussed in the Shire. It was just not done.

"I doubt you'll find anyone west of Bree that would have much interest in adventures," Bilbo told the Wizard, back onto the subject at hand. "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. I can't imagine all the things that could go wrong, but surely the whole thing must be unpleasant."

The pleased look quickly dropped from Gandalf's visage. "To think," he said with a disapproving air, "that I would come all this way to be refused an adventure by the daughter of Belladonna Took!"

Bilbo bristled uncomfortably. She remembered the days when she had accepted rather matter-of-factly that adventuring was something she would do at least once. When she had thought she would follow in her mother's footsteps in matters of both love and exploration. When her parents had still been alive.

What would her parents think of her now? What would they think of this Hobbit she had become? She had barely left Bag End in at least a week, had been refusing visitors, and no longer believed in love. Some days she didn't even think she believed in happiness. At least, not for herself.

"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

For a moment, Bilbo wasn't entirely sure if it was Gandalf who had spoken or perhaps the ghost of her parents somehow come back to haunt her.

Shaken, she stood abruptly and bid Gandalf a sharp good morning. Ignoring his considering look, Bilbo retreated back inside her smial.

The moment she was inside with the door firmly shut and bolted behind her, Bilbo winced. Even with her respectability and reputation in shreds, she still had no reason to be quite so rude, especially to a good friend of her late mother.

But what was done was done. And no matter how often Bilbo might wish it otherwise, there was no going back.

.

**Then:**

Fredegar Proudfoot had been Bilbo’s best friend for many years, cemented into the position after the Fell Winter. Many of Bilbo's friends had stopped visiting for the most part, unsure of how to handle her grief, but Fredegar had never stopped coming.

Bilbo had lost her parents at an early age, just months after her 22nd birthday. The Fell Winter had not been kind to any in the Shire and everyone had lost a close friend or family member, or both. But Bilbo was the only faunt who had lost both parents to the cruelty of that winter.

Like so many others, her father had fallen ill. It was more than likely, Bilbo knew now, that extreme malnutrition had weakened him to the point where the common cold could have killed him. Her parents had kept a well-stocked system of pantries, but had been unable to watch the families around them go hungry. So they had shared the food they had, keeping only what they thought was necessary for themselves. When the winter had stretched on with no end in sight and their pantries grew bare, there was no turning back. Their generosity had been a saving grace for many of the families in Hobbiton who would have otherwise starved to death, but it had been a grave mistake to give away so much. Bungo Baggins had eaten less and less, giving all the food he had to his wife and daughter with neither being the wiser until it was too late.

He had died a frail and weak Hobbit but to Bilbo he had been the strongest Hobbit she would ever meet. He had refused to give in to his hunger even in the bitter and torturous end.

Belladonna had followed her beloved husband mere days later, torn apart by wolves just feet from the safety of their home.

Gandalf had finally arrived the following day, when it was already too late for Bungo and Belladonna.

At only 22, eleven years from her coming of age, there was no way Bilbo could be allowed to stay in Bag End by herself, even if she hadn't been near catatonic with grief. So Bilbo had been moved into a spare bedroom in the Great Smials of Tuckborough to be under the watchful eyes of her grandfather, the Thain, as well as her grandmother and a smattering of aunts, uncles, and cousins.

It had taken her months after winter's end to begin constructing a new normal. By the time she had learned to ignore the crater in her chest and put on a brave face to spare her friends and family unnecessary worry, only a few of her friends were still visiting on a regular basis.

Of those friends, Fredegar was the only one who didn't seem to be made uncomfortable by her grief, so she never felt the need to hide it like she did with the others. Perhaps it was the fact that they were already best friends and in love that made it so. Or perhaps it was the way Freddie seemed to see no one else but her, no matter who was in the room. Or the way he had already claimed her as his, much to her adoration.

When a knock sounded on her bedroom door in Tuckborough and later on the front door of Bag End, Bilbo could rest assured that it was almost always Fredegar. And even in the darkest moments when the loss seemed to be swallowing her whole, that sound nearly always made Bilbo smile.

.

**Now:**

In the past week, Bilbo had gotten very good at ignoring the knocks on her door.

Now, however, she was beginning to worry that whoever had come calling this evening would punch a hole straight through her door if she didn't answer. She wasn't sure who it could possibly be, though. A Hobbit didn't have the strength to pound so viciously. Perhaps the Wizard had come back to turn her into a toad for her earlier rudeness?

Wary but determined to save her door from destruction (she had just painted it last week, for goodness sake!), Bilbo picked up the kitchen knife she had taken to keeping on the table beside the front door. Tucking this latest safety net behind her back and out of sight, Bilbo took a deep breath to steel herself, undid the lock, and cracked the door open.

A large hand shoved the door open further, causing Bilbo to stumble back out of the way.

It definitely wasn't a Hobbit that had been pounding on her door, but it wasn't a Wizard either.

It was a Dwarf.

A very large Dwarf with muscles defined in ways that Bilbo hadn't even known was possible. A Dwarf covered in tattoos and battle scars and wearing what looked to be some kind of armor and... were those weapons strapped to his back?

They were. Of course they were.

"Dwalin, son of Fundin, at your service," the Dwarf rumbled out, giving a small bow.

He was looking at her expectantly now. Bilbo thought she probably ought to introduce herself, but she was too busy gaping to force her mouth or brain to work.

Because, really. It wasn't every day a warrior Dwarf showed up on her doorstep. Bilbo thought she could probably be excused her lapse of manners.

Said Dwarf gave a shrug, mumbled something under his breath about the strangeness of Hobbits, and stepped in through the door.

"Which way is it, laddie?"

And suddenly Bilbo came back to herself with a ragged breath, thoughts flying to the scene that had occurred in her entryway just ten nights ago.

The Dwarf was staring at her now, looking almost... concerned?

Before she could think better of it, she had brandished the knife and was pointing it straight at the Dwarf's heart.

"Get out," she said, voice somehow calm and steady. "Get. Out."

The Dwarf's eyes widened, and a number of emotions played across his face faster than Bilbo could identify them. He held up his hands as if to show he meant no harm. It was a sign of surrender, but he was still inside her smial.

He was still inside her home.

"Get out or I swear I will gut you." Such a threat was surely foolish when aimed at someone who was obviously a warrior, but Bilbo had done more than her fair share of cowering in the past ten days and she. Was. Done.

"Alright, lad," he was saying in a gruff voice. He was backing up toward the door, one hand groping for the door frame. "Alright, I'm leavin'. Don't mean ye no harm, but I'll leave if ye want me to."

"Out."

With a slow nod, the Dwarf stepped out of her home, hands still raised in front of him in a non-threatening manner.

As soon as he had crossed the threshold, Bilbo slammed the door shut. Her hands were shaking so badly that it took a moment before she managed to engage the lock.

But that was not enough. Still clutching the kitchen knife in a white-knuckled grip, Bilbo quickly maneuvered a large chest in front of the door. It took almost more strength than she had to move it, pushing against it with all of her weight. She doubted it would hold back the dwarf if he tried to get in again, but it might slow him down.

As quickly as she could, Bilbo ran through her smial, checking that every door and window was securely locked. By the time she finished, she was unsure whether her breathing was harsh from the exertion or from panic. Judging by how the gasping breaths hitched with increasing speed and harshness rather than dissipating, Bilbo thought it was probably the latter.

She hadn't had a panic attack since the last time she had heard a wolf howl at least two years prior.

And this was worse, worse even than her first, because it was the first time she had ever dealt with one alone.

.

**Then:**

It was the first winter since the Fell Winter, since her parents' deaths.

In sharp contrast to the one that preceded it, this was a mild winter. It was almost as if Arda was trying to make up for the hell that she had put the Hobbits through.

Not that anything could make up for that winter, or the lives it had claimed.

Thanks to the mild weather, ice never formed on the Brandywine, much to the overwhelming relief of the Shire's inhabitants. The white wolves that had crossed the river the previous year had been the cause of only a handful of deaths but a good measure of terror. Hobbits were unaccustomed to meeting such violent ends, as nothing of the sort had really happened since the Wandering Days.

It was understandable, then, that the long echoing howl of a wolf the following winter caused a fair bit of panic. All who heard it, though certain that the river still stood between the wolves and the Shire, hurried inside and bolted their doors.

Bilbo, who was visiting Fredegar at his parents' home in Bywater, was no exception.

"Did you hear that?" asked Fredegar, frozen in place as the last echoes of a mournful howl reverberated through the valley.

Fredegar might have stopped to listen, but Bilbo was already moving.

With a harsh shove, she pushed him into action.

"Get inside," she whispered in a trembling voice, to herself as much as to Fredegar. "We have to get inside. Go!"

The sticks they had been using to practice sword fighting (Bilbo's idea, of course) were dropped to the ground, instantly forgotten. The two of them ran as fast as they could, scrambling uphill toward the safety of the smial. They made it in record time.

The two tweens slammed the door shut behind them and leaned against it, panting harshly. Fredegar's parents and a few of his siblings came rushing toward them, panicked but confused. Inside, they had not heard the howl and were not sure what could cause such terror in the faunts.

As Fredegar calmed his breathing enough to explain what had frightened them so, Bilbo's breathing only seemed to quicken. It was as though all the air in the room had vanished, leaving her gasping and unable to find relief.

The room blurred around her as Bilbo's legs gave out and she sank to the floor.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. Valar above, SHE COULDN'T BREATHE.

Suddenly, there were hands cupping her face, gentle but commanding. The hands forced her to look up. It was Fredegar's mother, Mrs. Proudfoot, looking anxious and concerned. Her lips were moving but Bilbo couldn't hear anything over the buzzing in her ears.

Mrs. Proudfoot reached out and grabbed one of Bilbo's hands, bringing it up to rest against her own chest. She breathed in and out exaggeratedly, so Bilbo could feel the rhythm of the woman's chest moving beneath her hand.

Eventually, Bilbo was able to match her breathing to Mrs. Proudfoot's. The ringing in her ears abated and she became aware of the others in the room, watching the two of them anxiously. Suddenly exhausted, Bilbo collapsed forward into Mrs. Proudfoot's arms.

"You're okay," the woman murmured gently, drawing Bilbo in to cradle her against her chest. Bilbo's own mother had once held her the same way, and she knew this embrace meant safety and comfort. Oh, how she had missed being held like this. "You're okay. You're safe."

.

**Now:**

Eventually, Bilbo was able to calm her breathing and reign in her panic. If one were to ask her how she had managed it on her own, Bilbo would be unable to give a real answer. The scratches up and down her arms told their own story, though, and it was the sharp sting of nails on skin that had grounded her enough to calm down.

Awareness came trickling back in, and Bilbo wondered if her attacker was gone now.

As much as she didn't want to move from where she was wedged between her wardrobe and her bed, Bilbo knew she wouldn't truly be able to relax until she knew for certain that the Dwarf had gone. There was only one thing for it, then. She needed to check. It took immeasurable strength for Bilbo to scoop the knife up from the floor and convince her body to uncurl.

She wiped her cheeks clear of tears and forced herself to stand tall. Then, on silent Hobbit feet, Bilbo crept back to her front room.

There were voices coming from beyond the door. Bilbo's white-knuckled grip on her knife tightened as she cocked her head and listened.

"... reason why we're all standing about in our burglar's garden?" a low voice was asking.

"Dwalin arrived first and terrified our host," a calm, steady voice replied.

"Wee thing came at 'im with a kitchen knife!" chuckled a third.

There was more laughter as numerous voices began to overlap one another. Bilbo tried her best to pick out individual voices - as far as she could tell, there were at least six or seven people in her garden.

Just as despair and no small measure of exasperation (really, this was just her luck!) began to creep in, a familiar voice boomed out, causing all the others to quiet.

"Master Dwarves!" The front gate creaked as it usually did when being opened, and footsteps drew closer. "Is there a problem here?"

"Gandalf," someone sighed exasperatedly. Inside, Bilbo echoed the sentiment under her breath. Fear loosened its grip on her enough to make way for relief.

"Are you sure you've the right burglar? Dwalin absolutely terrified the little thing."

Gandalf hummed, sounding displeased. "And what did Master Dwalin do to frighten Miss Baggins so badly?"

"Was his normal glowering self, I suspect," one voice said cheerfully, followed by a round of laughs.

Then one voice rose above the laughter, exclaiming incredulously, "Miss Baggins?! Our host is a woman?"

There was a brief silence before the cacophony of voices resumed, louder than before.

Inside the smial, Bilbo's grip on her knife loosened at the unexpected revelation. Lad. He had called her lad. The Dwarf hadn't even realized she was female. He hadn't come to attack her. He had come for some other reason, one that Gandalf seemed to have a hand in.

Summoning up all of her courage, Bilbo set about moving the chest back to its proper place. It scraped loudly across the floor, causing the invaders in her garden to quiet again.

"Miss Baggins?" Gandalf called gently.

"Gandalf," she called in the most level and put-upon tone she could manage, "you and I will be having words."

With one final shove, the chest was returned to its place and Bilbo was free to open the door. Taking a deep breath, she undid the locks and cracked the door. Gandalf's wrinkled visage stared back at her.

He smiled at her, looking a touch sheepish. "I did not intend to scare you, my dear. Perhaps I could explain?"

Bilbo considered for a minute putting down the knife, but decided against it. Mainly because she wasn't sure she could convince her fingers to uncurl from around the hilt. She tucked it behind her back like she had done earlier, and opened wide the door with her free hand. "In the name of all that is green and good, Gandalf, you damn well better explain."

.

A short while later found Bilbo opening her front door once more, most of her earlier fear gone. Tension was still coiled up in her shoulders and held her spine as straight as a rod, but she wasn’t afraid any longer.

The Dwarves - twelve of the thirteen she would be hosting for the evening, Gandalf had informed her - still lingered in her garden, puffing away on their pipes and speaking to each other in low tones.

Bilbo spared a moment to wonder what her neighbors would think. In the past week, she had become positively unsociable and she feared that meant the other Hobbits would see her as odd. And now, with twelve Dwarves loitering in her garden, Bilbo was beginning to suspect her reputation would never recover.

The Dwarves stilled when she opened the door, gazing up at her expectantly.

Bilbo cleared her throat, stepped forward and, heeding Gandalf’s advice, bowed. “I am Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, at your service.” She shifted uncomfortably, well aware of the intense gazes resting on her. “I must express my apologies for my earlier behavior. I was not expecting visitors, and certainly not Dwarves!”

Bilbo chuckled a bit at the ridiculousness of the situation. A few of the Dwarves smiled warmly at her, while others shot fierce glares at Gandalf where he was lingering in the doorway. Gandalf huffed exasperatedly and retreated back indoors. Feeling bolstered by this display, Bilbo continued, “But unexpected or no, you are most certainly not unwelcome. Please, come in. Welcome to my home.”

As Bilbo stepped aside so she was no longer blocking the door, a Dwarf with white hair and a long white beard stepped forward. The rest of them stayed put, allowing this Dwarf, who Bilbo suspected was the oldest and wisest of the bunch, to speak for them.

“The company of Thorin Oakenshield, at your service and your family’s, Miss Baggins.”

Almost as one, the Dwarves bowed low to her.

The Dwarf who had spoken looked quite serious, but far from displeased. In fact, he looked at Bilbo with something akin to respect in his eyes, which puzzled her.

He cleared his throat and said, “We offer our most sincere apologies for our actions, especially those of my brother.” Here, Bilbo noticed that the first Dwarf she’d met, the one who’d frightened her so badly, went red and glared uncomfortably at the ground. “Your kindness is more than we deserve.”

It was Bilbo’s turn to flush red. “Nonsense,” she informed the Dwarf. “Please, come in, all of you. What kind of host leaves her guests to sit on the front stoop? My father certainly wouldn’t have approved. I feel a poor host, indeed.”

A young-looking pair of Dwarves were the first to move in response to Bilbo’s invitation. They approached her, standing tall and regal.

“Fili,” said the blond.

“And Kili,” said the brunette.

“At your service,” they chorused, bowing in tandem.

Bilbo just nodded voicelessly, not sure what to make of such stoic beings. For a moment, she wondered if she was mistaken in thinking them young. Then the brunette grinned and winked at her, all seriousness forgotten. The other rolled his eyes and shoved his fellow inside, offering Bilbo an apologetic grin as they passed.

And just like that, Bilbo’s shoulders began to lose a bit of tension.

One by one, the rest of the Dwarves filed into her home, introducing themselves and offering their service as they passed. The one called Bofur swept his hat off his head in a rather dramatic and ridiculous gesture that had Bilbo smiling. The white-haired Dwarf who had spoken earlier introduced himself as Balin, and thanked her again for her kindness. That left only one Dwarf remaining on her front step.

He would be just as intimidating as he had been when she first saw him, if not for the contrite look on his face and the slight hunch to his shoulders.

“Dwalin, at yer service,” he introduced again. “’M sorry for comin’ into yer home uninvited, Mistress Hobbit.”

His apology seemed sincere, and Bilbo knew now that Gandalf’s deception had played a part in his actions. So she nodded, and gestured for him to enter her home.

Bilbo stood just outside her door for a long moment, gazing into the smial that now held twelve strangers and a meddling Wizard. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She was sure she had a long night ahead of her.


	2. the invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo joins the company.

_I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,  
_ _if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain._

\- The Invitation by Oriah

* * *

Bilbo quickly realized that she was housing twelve very hungry dwarves, though none of them said anything. They had all gathered in her kitchen - spacious though it was, there was barely enough room to move at all - and a few of the dwarves were craning their necks, seemingly looking for food. A couple of stomachs growled quite loudly.

"I'm sure you're all quite hungry," Bilbo said, straining to speak loud enough to be heard over the roar of voices. "I feel a terrible host for asking this, but if one of you would be willing to aid me, I'm sure I could have a meal ready within the hour."

To Bilbo's surprise, all of the dwarves offered to help and were quite enthusiastic about doing so. After Bilbo assured them that everything in her kitchen and pantries were at their disposal, they set about creating a veritable feast. The little hobbit host ended up cooking nearly nothing at all. The dwarves worked as a cohesive whole with team work and some acrobatics that had Bilbo gaping. It became quite clear to her that her guests were a cheery bunch.

After watching the dwarves open-mouthed for a few embarrassingly long moments, she headed for her main pantry. She wondered if there would be anything left on the shelves at all. The moment she stepped into the tiny space, her steps faltered. Just an hour ago, she had been cowering in here, sobbing and shaking from the fear. Bilbo sighed. Would things ever return to normal?

* * *

As the feasting winded down, a knock came at the door. Every dwarf in the room went still and quite.

Taking his pipe out of his mouth, Gandalf announced ominously - rather unnecessary, Bilbo thought - "He's here."

Gandalf rose from his dark corner and moved toward the entryway. He reached for the door but Bilbo pushed him aside, muttering about her poor hosting skills and good gracious, her father would be horrified at the way she'd handled her guests.

She swung the door open and took a small step back. The figure in her doorway was tall and muscled with striking blue eyes. It was strange, the way he held himself. It was confident and proud and serious. Bilbo found herself standing up straighter and pulling back her shoulders.

There was a pause as she and the dwarf observed each other, then Bilbo remembered her manners. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

"I am Thorin, son of Thrain, at yours."

The dwarf, Thorin, stepped into her smial, looming over her. A single braid slipped over his shoulder as he ducked in through the door, glittering in the light. Thorin's eyes flickered to Gandalf before returning to his evaluation of Bilbo. The way he sneered as he looked her up and down made the hobbit sure that he found her lacking.

"So this is the hobbit..." He circled her, making her feel quite like prey. Like she was being cornered by a hungry wolf, ready to strike. She would tell herself later it was the overwhelming anxiety and stress the night had brought her, rather than fear, that made her hands begin to tremble.

"Ah, Thorin!" exclaimed a voice. Bilbo hadn't realized they'd gained an audience. "Could I have a word?"

Balin quickly ushered Thorin back out the door.

Behind her, one of the dwarves snickered. "I wish Balin would do that every time Uncle went to stick his foot in his mouth."

There was a thump and a quiet, hissed "ow!" The dwarves began to file back into the dining area, throwing curious looks at the door as they went.

* * *

With a contract in hand and, finally, an explanation as to why there were thirteen dwarves and a wizard inside her home, Bilbo retreated to her study. Laceration? Incineration? The hobbit quickly sat down in her armchair before she felt any fainter. She sat for a moment, breathing deeply. Then she unfolded the rest of the long contract - was she really considering this? - and continued reading.

When she'd finished, Bilbo considered her options, limited as they were. She could join these strangers on their dangerous and insane quest that would, in all likelihood, end in disfiguration or death, or she could... What? Stay in the Shire and hide in her pantry every time someone came calling? Stay in the Shire and lose sleep over the possibility of someone finding out what she had let happen to her? Stay and share her home with the constant, nagging thought of what if he comes back? What if it happens again? And what of the terrifying question that clung stubbornly to the forefront of her thoughts no matter how she tried to avoid it... _Do I marry him still?_

Bilbo could not deny that she wanted out of the Shire, away from Bag End and from the memories that now tainted her childhood home. But would she find the same kind of danger with the dwarves?

She opened the door to her study, only mildly surprised to find Gandalf lurking in the hall.

"Gandalf," she begins hesitantly, unsure of how to phrase the question, "these dwarves... are they safe?"

The wizard raises a bushy eyebrow at her. "Safe?" he echoes. "Certainly not. They are fierce warriors, determined to reach their homeland and they will not hesitate to destroy anything that stands in their way... But that is not what you're asking, is it? My dear Bilbo, dwarves are unbelievably loyal to each other and to those they would call their allies. The rest of the world may not be safe from the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, my dear, but they would never harm you."

Bilbo considered this for a moment. If there was anyone she could trust, she supposed, it was Gandalf. So Bilbo figured she could probably be assured of the dwarves' character.

"Alright then," she said, nodding decisively. She returned to the study, signing her name with a flourish, and marched back out past Gandalf and into the main room. The dwarves grew quieter as she navigated her way through them. She came to a stop before Balin.

He took the contract from her outstretched hand with a grandfatherly smile. He looked the contract over before finally nodding. "Everything seems to be in order. Welcome to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, Miss Baggins."

Around her, the dwarves cheered.

* * *

Later that evening, Bilbo paused in her hurried packing as a haunting melody filled every room in her smial. Something about the song of mourning the dwarves were singing resonated with Bilbo. She sat heavily on the edge of her bed, put her head in her hands, and cried.


	3. knowledge is power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo learns to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the reviews! They are very much appreciated.
> 
> So I totally thought I had already posted this chapter... whoops. The next chapter is mostly written, so expect another update in a day or two... and then never expect such quick updates from me ever again ;)

The clashing of swords and the quiet grunts were what caught Bilbo's attention. She looked up from where she had been sitting quietly away from the rest of the company, distracting herself from the loneliness by mending a small tear in her traveling cloak.

Fili and Kili were both grinning as they sparred, moving so quickly that Bilbo could hardly tell what was happening at all. They moved with a grace that was quite incredible and neither seemed to hesitate even for the barest of seconds.

A few other members of the company were gathered around them. Nori and Bifur were huddled together, speaking quietly. Bilbo hadn't grown close to any members of the company, but she had observed them enough to guess that the two dwarves were probably betting.

In the two weeks since the quest had begun, the dwarves had held Bilbo at arm's length. They weren't certain what to make of the little hobbit who had threatened a warrior with nothing more than a kitchen knife but didn't know the first thing about riding or caring for a pony. Most of the dwarves had, at some point, asked Bilbo why she had joined the quest. Unwilling and unable to utter the truth, Bilbo could only shrug and make excuses. The dwarves were not impressed.

Quite suddenly, Kili landed on his back in the dirt with Fili's sword at his throat. After a moment, Fili sheathed his sword and reached out a hand to pull his brother up. He gave a proud exclamation in the dwarves' language, grin growing. Kili rolled his eyes but let himself be pulled to his feet.

Bilbo glanced back down at her cloak, brow furrowed as she thought. She had never fought before. Not with swords or fists or anything else but words. She tried not to think about the horrid consequences she had faced for not knowing how to defend herself just a few weeks ago.

Before she could change her mind, Bilbo rose to her feet and marched over to Fili and Kili. The other dwarves had already dispersed.

"Miss Boggins!" Kili exclaimed with a grin as she approached.

Bilbo smiled nervously back. Afraid she would lose her nerve if she tarried any longer, she blurted out, "I want to learn to fight."

The boys' grins turned mischievous, which only made Bilbo more nervous.

"You've come to the right dwarves!" exclaimed Fili.

"We'll start small," Kili decided, turning to his brother.

"Throwing knives?"

A nod. "And basic knifework. Hand to hand?"

"Good idea."

The two turned back to Bilbo, looking at her intently. In unison, they nodded decisively and Fili declared, "Let's get started."

That evening, Kili and Fili spent the last of the daylight teaching Bilbo proper stance and grip. Though their mischievous looks had made Bilbo wary, she found that the two dwarves were very serious and patient teachers. They were both hovering a little too closely for Bilbo's comfort, crowding her space, but they corrected and guided her so gently that she couldn't find it in herself to fault them for it.

When it grew too dark to continue, Bilbo tried to hand back to Fili the throwing knife he had lent her.

"Keep it," he said, pressing it back into her hand and curling her fingers around the hilt. "We were remiss in not giving you something before now."

The days passed at a leisurely pace. More and more often, the dwarves (especially Fili and Kili) would include her in conversations as they rode, and Bombur, Bifur, and Bofur invited her to join them for dinner in the evenings. As soon as the company halted for the evening, the two young dwarves would steal her away to train her. They quickly drew an audience and, Bilbo suspected, a betting pool. More often than not, the advice the other dwarves yelled at her distracted her more than it helped her.

One night, while Fili tried to teach Bilbo everything he knew about hand to hand combat, he and Kili began to bicker about one thing or another. Bilbo hadn't been listening, too distracted by Bifur and Bofur trying to demonstrate proper form. Then, suddenly, Bilbo found herself tackled to the ground by two scuffling dwarves. Kili was laying practically on top of her, focused on getting a firmer grip on Fili's hair. He didn't notice when Bilbo began to panic.

"GET OFF!" Bilbo screeched, trying her best to scramble away. Once free, she pulled herself immediately to her feet. She tried to hide the way her hands were shaking by dusting herself off.

"It's just a bit of dirt, Bilbo!" Kili laughed up at her.

"Hobbits," another of the dwarves sighed.

Glancing to the dwarves who were watching them from the edge of camp, Bilbo saw eyes rolling and fond, exasperated smiles. She forced herself to stand tall, nose in the air, in her best impression of Lobilia.

"Yes, well," she said haughtily, "hobbits may enjoy working with the earth, but we prefer not to bathe in it as you dwarves do."

Laughter rang out in the clearing.

Still shaken but relieved her panic had gone unnoticed, Bilbo quickly made her way back to the camp and pulled her spare shirt, needle, and thread from her pack to distract herself.

The needle quivered in her shaking hands and, for the life of her, Bilbo could not get the thread through the eye of the needle. When she finally grew overly frustrated by the unsuccessful attempts, she tossed it all to the ground and stood up with a huff.

"Bombur," she began, approaching the dwarf, "can I help with anything?"

The dwarf looked up from the stew he was stirring. The campfire cast light upon his face and Bilbo could see clearly as he began to frown and worry spread across his features. "Are you alright, Bilbo?"

"Of course!" Bilbo replied with a laugh she hoped didn't sound too forced. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Bombur looked doubtful, but let the issue drop. Soon enough, the hobbit was hunting about the surrounding landscape in search of some herbs to add to the stew.

When they sat down to eat that evening, Bombur discretely ladled a little extra into Bilbo's bowl and later, Bofur nudged her bedroll closer to the fire than where she usually slept. When she tried to protest, Bilbo was gently but firmly ignored. She murmured her thanks as the camp began to settle down for the night, pleased to find that the unease which had plagued her since the incident with Kili and Fili had faded away into nothing.


	4. filled with stories of survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more company bonding, the troll incident, and Rivendell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, dear readers. An update, as promised. My muse is notoriously sporadic, so it may be another month or more before the next update. Sorry :( 
> 
> You'll notice that this chapter sticks more closely to book canon, especially when it comes to Rivendell. This will change a few chapters down the road when it suits me.
> 
> The name for this chapter comes from one of my favorite poets, Michelle K. This is from her "What Keeps Me Up At Night" collection. You can find her on tumblr: michellekpoems.tumblr.com. Go check her out!

Bilbo woke to a presence hovering at her side and the sound of someone whispering her name in her ear.

"Bilbo. Bilbo. Bilbo!"

"For goodness sake, Kili, what do you want?" she muttered reluctantly into her bedroll, doing her best to keep herself on the edge of sleep.

"Bilbo..."

"What?" she hissed.

"It's your watch."

Oh, thought Bilbo, slumping further into her warm blankets. Damn.

All these weeks on the road and Bilbo still wasn't used to the inconveniences of rough travel. She was always hungry (really, how did the dwarves survive on two or three meals a day?) and some of the meals didn't sit well in her stomach. And she never felt well-rested, thanks to sitting up on watch every other night and Thorin's insistence that they use every smidgen of daylight possible.

"Bilbo?"

The hobbit groaned and flapped a hand in Kili's direction. She was trying to extract herself from her cozy cocoon, really she was. A few moments later, Bilbo finally gave in and heaved herself up off the ground. She blinked blearily, then raised an eyebrow. Even through the darkness, she could see Kili beaming at her.

"What?" she asked warily.

He shrugged, smile widening, and told her, "I like you."

There was something about Kili that made everyone around him smile almost constantly. Bilbo was not immune. "I like you too, Kili. If it weren't for the... the whole dwarfishness thing, I'd almost mistake you for one of my cousins."

"Dwarfishness thing?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow of his own.

"Oh, go to sleep," she muttered, and began picking her way through the snoring dwarves to the campfire.

As Bilbo settled in next to the fire, she watched how, even in sleep, Thorin and Fili seemed to gravitate toward Kili the moment he laid down between them. Bilbo was beginning to see the uncle behind the kingly mask. For all his gruff exterior and tendency toward brooding, Thorin truly cared for the boys.

Thoughts drifting to her own complicated but loving family back in the Shire, Bilbo turned her eyes to their surroundings and waited for the light to come.

* * *

A few nights later, Bilbo was glaring fiercely at Kili. Moodily, she informed the dwarf, "I take it back. I don't like you."

Kili grinned sheepishly up at her. Beside him, his brother did his best to avoid looking at Bilbo. He, too, looked chagrined.

"Burgle the ponies back, they said," Bilbo muttered to herself, turning her attention back to her ruined waistcoat. Ugh. Troll snot. "Let's not bother the others, they said. Stupid dwarves. Stupid, stupid dwarves."

"That's rather hurtful, Bilbo."

The hobbit looked up to find Bofur approaching her with a grin. He made shooing motions at Fili and Kili; they made faces, but wandered off anyway.

"Not all dwarrow are stupid. Just Fili and Kili."

Bilbo couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes. She opened her mouth to retort, and then paused. Bombur was striding toward them, two bowls in hand. Bilbo snatched one out of his hands in the blink of an eye. Thanks to the troll incident, she hadn't eaten anything substantial since the previous morning. She was starving.

She scarfed down the cold stew, resolutely ignoring the raised eyebrows of the surrounding dwarves and Gandalf imparting wisdom on those gathered, "Never stand between a hobbit and their meal."

* * *

Bilbo found herself regretting the stew a while later when she found herself hovering over a bush, trying her best to keep it from coming back up. Her stomach had been weak lately and eating so quickly hadn't helped any.

The loud and clumsy sound of boots stomping through the underbrush alerted Bilbo to an approaching dwarf. "Are ye alright?"

The hobbit turned around, forcing a smile for Bofur. "I'm fine," she assured him. "I think I just ate too fast."

Bofur ushered her back to where the dwarves were gathering up the ponies and preparing to continue on the journey east. "I think I still have some bread," he said as he began to rummage through his pack. "It might help settle your stomach."

The hatted dwarf gave her a sincere grin when Bilbo tried to refuse. He handed over the bread as soon as he found it and hurried away with a wink before she could try to give it back. A few of the dwarves glanced at the hobbit as Bofur walked away, and Bilbo could have sworn there was something akin to concern in Thorin's brief gaze. She thought perhaps she had imagined it, but then remembered the parental concern for Fili and Kili that occasionally slipped through the dwarf king's stony facade, and the swiftness with which he had surrendered to the trolls when she was in danger. Maybe she hadn't imagined the worry in his glance.

As she began to walk across the clearing toward Myrtle, Bilbo was unsure if her stomach would accept any more food, but took a cautious nibble anyway. She didn't feel any more ill, so she took another bite and then stowed the rest in her pocket for later.

"We will reach Rivendell in a few days, if we're lucky," Gandalf was saying to Thorin as they all mounted their ponies. "We need to restock our provisions, for one thing, and rest in reasonable safety will do you good."

Bilbo let out a quiet sigh of relief. It certainly would do them good to rest for a few days away from the dangers of the wilderness and closer to the comforts of home. There was little Bilbo wanted more at that moment than a warm bath, a soft bed, and a good meal.

As they moved forward, Gandalf came to ride beside Bilbo. He inquired after her well-being, and was rightly skeptical of her assurance that she was just fine. He didn't press the issue, though, and simply pulled out a blade that looked very much like a dagger in his large hands.

"We found these in the troll hoard," he explained at Bilbo's look of bewilderment. He pressed it into her hands. "This one seemed to be just the right size for a hobbit and may prove useful in the coming weeks. It's of Elvish make; a finer blade you could not find even in the forges of dwarves. It will glow blue when orcs or goblins are near."

As the wizard rode away, Bilbo noticed a similar sword strapped to his side and later she would notice Thorin examining and sharpening another. Bilbo was quite sure the dagger (a sword in her hands) would prove much more useful in the hands of one of the other dwarves but Gandalf had not given her a chance to say so. The hobbit made a note to herself that she would need to ask Fili and Kili to show her how to wield it.

The company traveled for a few days more, more subdued than before. The dangers of their journey had become more apparent and more real to both the dwarves and Bilbo. There was less singing and storytelling, so Bilbo made a point to travel near Bofur or Kili, the most cheerful of the dwarves, in an effort to keep the melancholy at bay. She was fairly successful during the day, but a certain hobbit had made his way back into her dreams (Bilbo was not quite sure why the dreams - nightmares, really - had returned now but there was little she could do about it). She awoke most nights with terror coursing through her veins and betrayal fresh in her mind.

* * *

Gandalf led them down a well-hidden path, promising that an Elvish city lay at the bottom of the valley. It grew warmer as they descended, easing a chill Bilbo hadn't realized was bothering her. The company relaxed slightly with every step as the sense of danger that had accompanied them through the wilds eased bit by bit. As the day faded into evening, the glow of lanterns began to pop up around them. An elf revealed himself to them, welcoming them to the valley and walked side by side with Gandalf until the forest opened up to reveal the Elvish city.

The Elvish lord that met them at the gates, Elrond, didn't seem to mind Thorin's gruff and less-than-polite acceptance of the offered hospitality and kindly directed the company toward the baths and the great dining hall.

A female elf came along and plucked her from the clutches of the company. The hobbit gladly followed at the prospect of bathing in a separate room from her traveling companions, waving away the few dwarves who expressed concern at her going off alone.

After she was bathed and clad in a dress that had been provided for her, the same elf led Bilbo to a room that had been set aside just for her. Bilbo thanked her profusely and climbed happily onto the giant bed. After reveling in the softness for a moment, Bilbo reached for her pack. She pulled all of her belongings from it, setting her clothing and such aside for washing and taking careful stock of everything else. She blinked in surprise when her searching hands found a bundle of cloth she had forgotten existed. Before leaving the Shire, she had checked and double-checked that she had brought this necessity. As the only female in the company, she had known that she would be handling her monthly bleedings by herself in a new environment and without advice or help.

But she had since forgotten about these cloths. She hadn't used them once. And it had been nearly three whole moon cycles since her last bleeding and...

Surely it was just the lack of food and the stress of being on the road. Many women had not had their monthly bleedings during the Fell Winter in the Shire due to the stress and malnutrition. This was most certainly the same thing. What else could it be?

Bilbo steadfastly ignored the uncomfortable feeling in her gut that came from churning doubt. She ignored the wondering thought that she was missing something.

Shaking away such doubt, Bilbo climbed down from the bed and went in search of her company and, more importantly, food.


	5. a stranger in her own skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A realization and the misery that follows...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed my warnings: This chapter is ugly, and deals with rape, unwanted pregnancy, body horror, suicide, and abortion. If you're worried about being triggered, I'd encourage you to skip down to the bottom, where I've included a summary of the chapter, or stop reading this story altogether.

The Misty Mountains loomed over the company as they continued their steady march east. Bilbo kept thinking again and again that the mountains seemed so close, that they would be reaching them soon. Yet it had been a few days since she had first thought that, and they didn't seem any closer now.

It was midday now, the sun hanging high in the sky and beating down on them. Their short reprieve in Rivendell had been a refreshing and much needed rest, but the hobbit and many of the dwarves were still weary from their travels. The weight of the sun bearing down on them didn't help. Bilbo wished they could have spent more time relaxing in the home of the elves, but Thorin and the other dwarves had been eager to continue on.

"We'll rest here." The light breeze carried Thorin's voice down the line of dwarves and startled Bilbo from her longing for her bed in Rivendell. Their midday halts were typically meant more for the ponies than for the company. The animals were hardy but Thorin worried about pushing them too far too fast and didn't want to risk a sick or injured pony.

The company dismounted their ponies and lead them to the nearby stream to drink. Bombur pulled out the dried meat that would serve as their lunch. Bilbo moved to grab a piece from her friend, but paused as she noticed some of the plants that joined the willows in lining the creek bed. They looked familiar and, if Bilbo was seeing what she thought she was seeing, she would be eating well for the next few days.

Bombur gave her a strange look as she strode past him, completely ignoring the food in his hands. She made a bee line for the nearest shrub and felt a spark of joy. The bush was taller than her, taller than any of the dwarves and even Gandalf. It was covered with little round berries that were a sort of red-ish purple in color, some of them so dark they looked to be almost black. When Bilbo had inspected the leaves and berries enough to confirm that they were chokecherries, she plucked one and popped it in her mouth.

Humming happily to herself, Bilbo removed her vest and laid it on the ground so she could begin collecting berries. She paused suddenly, a hand going to her stomach. With a layer of clothing removed, she could see her figure better.

And despite the lack of food, her belly seemed to be, oddly enough, growing  _rounder_.

It was then that the world fell out from beneath Bilbo's feet.

* * *

"Burglar!" was the shout that jolted Bilbo from her shock. She was still frozen in place, a hand on her belly and her vest at her feet.

Bilbo turned to find Thorin stomping toward her, looking slightly irritated. Behind him, the rest of the company were gathering their ponies and preparing to depart.

"Burglar," he said again when he reached her. Bilbo wondered idly if he had forgotten that she had asked him to call her Bilbo. "We're leaving."

Bilbo stared at him for a moment, unable to summon the energy to move. Then she nodded numbly and swept up her vest, moving silently past the dwarf to find Myrtle. The idea of collecting berries was gone from her mind, replaced by this horrifying realization and her despairing disbelief.

* * *

"Will you join me, lass?"

Startled, Bilbo's head snapped up to find a dwarf before her. It was Oin.

The company had set up camp for the evening and the dwarves had, thankfully, left her alone after she had been silent and on the verge of tears for the rest of the day's ride. She was sitting beside the fledgling fire, staring at her feet even as the thought niggled in the back of her mind that she should be doing something to help her dwarves.

Oin was the first dwarf to approach her and Bilbo felt her mind stir, awakening again to the world beyond the bump of her stomach.

"Nothin' much grows up in the mountains," Oin explained to her, "so I need to gather herbs while I still have a chance. Might also be able to find some of those mushrooms you like so much."

Offering a weak smile, Bilbo shook herself from her stupor and nodded. "I can help."

"I'll come too," said Fili, materializing beside Bilbo and startling her again. "Kili's busy annoying Uncle, so I've got nothing better to do."

The three of them walked away from the camp in silence, the dwarves had certainly picked on Bilbo's depressed and despairing mood but they refrained from asking what was wrong. They stepped into the sparse forest, eyes on the ground. Oin began to explain what they were looking for.

As they combed the forest floor, picking up this plant and that, Bilbo purposefully put distance between herself and the dwarves. Her earlier realization was the only thing in her mind as she scanned the ground and all she could see was that everything was collapsing down around her, her whole world crumbling. She searched for hope, but found none.

She moved into a clearing and suddenly found herself frozen, the fog in her mind dissipating.

Before her was a patch of small yellow flowers. The heads of the plant looked a little like the buttons on Bilbo's vest and the stems were a reddish color, dotted with long green leaves.

This was a plant Bilbo knew of due to an unfortunate accidental poisoning that had occurred in the shire a few years past. A pregnant hobbit had risen in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. In an effort not to wake her husband or children, she had lit only a small candle. In the dim light, she made tea to settle her stomach and her mind. She mistakenly reached for the wrong container and, not noticing her error, made a cup of strong, poisonous tea. It was tansy, a flower that was used in small quantities as an herb in hobbit cooking. In large doses, it had the ability to kill a child in the mother's womb. The poor hobbit had woken the next day to find her bedclothes stained with blood. A midwife was called for and confirmed to the distraught parents that the child no longer lived.

Bilbo knew what the flower looked like. She also knew that it grew in most places, including, it seemed, here at the foot of the Misty Mountains. Her surroundings faded away as Bilbo found yellow and green and red overtaking her vision. Here, here was the solution to her problem.

The hobbit dropped to her knees, plucking from the ground every single tansy she could get her hands on. Soon, her hands were full. Without a second thought, Bilbo ripped the head of one tansy from its stem and tore off its petals. She put a few in her mouth to taste it. A fruity and slightly bitter taste exploded in her mouth, confirming what she had already known.

This was tansy, and it would make her problems go away.

"Bilbo," Oin began in a tight voice. Bilbo hadn't even noticed him entering the clearing. "That's poisonous."

Bilbo sat frozen for a few moments, her grip tightening around the flowers in her hand. She refused to look up. "I know."

There was a short, tense silence, then: "Fili, get Thorin."

At Oin's request, Fili dashed from the clearing.

"Don't," Bilbo said, finally lifting her eyes, but Fili was already gone. Anger infiltrated her voice, "I'm  _fine_."

"Put the plant down, please."

"You don't understand!" Bilbo exclaimed. She sat back, surprised at how loud and desperate her voice had become. More quietly, "You don't understand. No. I need to do this. Please just leave me alone."

"Lass, we're not going to stand by and watch you kill yourself."

"I'm not trying to... to kill myself!" exclaimed Bilbo, horrified at the suggestion and the startling realization that ingesting all of the poison no matter the consequences had indeed crossed her mind. "I'm not. I just... I-I'm trying to... I'm not trying to kill myself."

"I'm afraid I don't understand, Bilbo."

"Of course you don't! You're men! All of you! You've never had to worry about anything like this. It's never even crossed your minds!"

Bilbo found herself on her feet, the flowers crushed in her fists and her voice increasing in volume.

"You don't understand! YOU'VE NEVER BEEN BETRAYED BY THE ONE YOU LOVED!" The tears blurred her vision, but she could still see that most of the company was now standing before her. "You've never been violated in the most horrid way imaginable, inside your own home!"

"Bilbo..." Was that Thorin's voice? Bilbo was too distraught to tell.

"I can't let it live. I won't. I want it to be gone, to forget that it ever happened." She was beginning to lose steam and she felt weak, faint. Perhaps she should sit down? "This is the only future I will take."

Hands reached for her, and Bilbo flinched. Whoever had been trying to approach her stilled.

"May I place my hands on your shoulders, Bilbo?"

Thorin. That  _was_ Thorin's voice. Bilbo found herself nodding before she could think better of it.

Two large, dwarven hands reached for her again, more slowly this time. They settled onto her shoulders, unbelievably gentle. Bilbo couldn't prevent the flinch all the same.

Thorin knelt down in front of her, hands still resting on her shoulders. His face finally entered her gaze - which had been resting, unfocused, somewhere near his boots - and he stared up at her with wide, concerned eyes. It was a look usually reserved for his sister-sons, and it did not surface often.

"Oh, Bilbo," he said softly, mournfully.

Bilbo's feet could support her no longer. She sank back down to the ground, arms wrapped around herself in a desperate attempt to keep herself together. Thorin slowly wrapped his own arms around her, giving her plenty of opportunity to pull away or to refuse. She leaned into his chest and, as he pulled her close, she became aware of the horrible keening that was escaping her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but only succeeded in sobbing loudly.

Bilbo could see no way forward. She clung to Thorin and wished futilely that she could somehow turn back time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for the next chapter? Cause I'm not sure I am...
> 
> Chapter Summary: In this chapter, Bilbo discovers she is pregnant by her rapist and reacts by attempting to eat a poisonous plant that will either kill her or terminate the pregnancy. The dwarves discover her with the poison and stop her from harming herself. Bilbo, understandably, melts into a puddle of tears and misery.


	6. my body is not a democracy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers Bilbo's past and the dwarves' reaction. I know that dwarves highly value children, but I simply couldn't bring myself to have them be anything but completely supportive. Bilbo's hard enough on herself as it is. Things are slightly better in this chapter, but the next will not be so kind to her ;) Please, please, please don't hesitate to tell me if you find any faults or if I'm not handling these issues sensitively enough.
> 
> My body is not a democracy.  
> It is an empire  
> and I am its dictator.  
> You do not get a vote.  
> There will be no coup d'etat.  
> Rebel forces will not overthrow me.  
> I am in charge of it  
> forever.
> 
> \- teafly

Bilbo had fallen in love with Fredegar sometime during her teens. She wasn't sure, exactly, why Fredegar had caught her attention but of all of her childhood playmates, he was the one she felt drawn to.

She had been young then, of course. Just a young hobbit who raced her fellow age-mates across the meadow (and usually won) and climbed the trees that no one else would attempt. Fredegar was impressed by her daring, and was nearly always there to cheer her on. He was as competitive as she was and was a huge fan of challenging Bilbo to eating contests. They spent their childhood trying to outdo one another.

And when Bilbo's parents had passed, Fredegar had checked on her very dutifully. He came by nearly every day to make sure Bilbo was eating and to be a quiet (or loud) presence in the otherwise lonesome, too big smial.

A few years later, Fredegar had appeared on her doorstep, fidgeting nervously with a large bouquet of flowers. Stumbling a little over his words but doing his best to appear confident, he had asked for permission to court her. Bilbo had accepted immediately, and the great beaming smile on her lips had been echoed by his huge grin.

That had only been two seasons ago. They had suffered through tea time with each others' large families, and stolen the occasional kiss in the fields. There had been more flowers and meals and books exchanged between the two of them. It had been a happy time.

And then... and then Fredegar had showed up on her doorstep. This time, stumbling drunk and knocking on her door at an hour which was far past proper. She had been so surprised at his appearance and so confused as to what he was doing there that she hadn't tried to turn him away. He had stumbled into her smial, ignoring her questions. And then he proceeded to dismiss every word that fell from her lips and her every attempt to push him away. There had been harsh kisses and rough hands and...

He had forced himself onto her and taken her against her will.

She had never felt more betrayed in all her life.

* * *

"It's your choice," was the first thing any of the dwarves said to her other than murmuring comforting nonsense.

The sky had grown dark as Thorin held Bilbo in the clearing. Bilbo wasn't entirely sure, but she thought he had instructed the other dwarves to return to camp at some point. When Thorin had finally led her back to the camp, the rest of the company had stoked the fire and finished preparing dinner. They urged her to sit close to the fire, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and handing her a hot bowl of rabbit stew. She ate in silence, not looking any of the dwarves in the eye. She could hear the quiet murmur of Thorin, Balin, and Oin's voices in the distance and wondered what they thought of her now.

She had been so stupid to let this happen to her. She shouldn't have let Fredegar into her smial that night, should have been firmer in saying no. And she certainly shouldn't have encouraged Fredegar with all of those stolen kisses. Bilbo thought of those hidden moments when their bodies were pressed together and all thoughts of propriety were abandoned, and she knew she had led her fiance to believe she wanted to be intimate with him.

As she had since that night, Bilbo wondered if she was wrong to feel this way about the incident, to feel like it was a betrayal and a violation. She and Fredegar had planned on marrying. And sex was something that husbands and wives did, something everyone knew was expected of them because how else would hobbits have such large families? Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe she was wrong to not have wanted her fiance that way on that horrid night.

Bilbo was terrified that, now that someone knew what had happened, such thoughts would be confirmed. Would the dwarves think less of her for letting something like this happen to her? Or for not satisfying her fiance? For abandoning him without a word?

A presence was suddenly standing over her and Bilbo startled, hot stew sloshing over the edge of her bowl and onto her hand.

"My apologies," said Thorin, wincing when she hissed in pain. "I did not mean to startle you."

Bilbo tensed as he knelt before her again, unsure of what was coming next. He handed her a piece of cloth to clean up the spilled stew and then began to speak.

"Bilbo," said Thorin gently as she dabbed at her hand, "this is your choice."

She looked up, surprised. "What?" she croaked, voice raw from shouting and crying.

"This decision is yours to make," he said, his eyes grave but earnest. "If you decide against terminating the pregnancy, we will find a place that is safe for you and give you whatever assistance you may need, whether that be coin, food, companionship, an escort somewhere... And if you decide to terminate... Oin can find a way to do so safely, so that you are not hurt."

One of the dwarves made a noise of protest, but was quickly shushed.

"We will stand by you, no matter what you chose," Thorin continued. "We are at your service, Bilbo Baggins."

Bilbo stared at him, eyes wide. She didn't know what reaction she had expected from the dwarves, but this level of acceptance was certainly not it. There were tears dripping down her face again.

"Thank you." She was at a loss for words in the face of this astounding kindness, so she simply said again, "Thank you."

"We would not blame you if you decided to turn back," Balin said, stepping closer. "We can terminate the contract if you wish it, and escort you as far as Rivendell."

The campsite was silent for a long moment, the dwarves holding their breath as they waited for Bilbo's response.

"I..." started Bilbo uncertainly, "I don't want to turn back. I promised I would help you and I want to see that through. I want to keep going and I don't... I don't think I can let this live... I..."

"We will support you in whatever choice you make," Thorin said again when her voice faded into silence. "But that does not mean you must make a choice immediately."

"Okay," Bilbo whispered. She took a deep breath. "Okay, I'll think about it."

* * *

_Bilbo was in the Shire, running and playing with her age-mates. Fredegar was by her side as he always had been, and she couldn't figure out why this made her uneasy. Thorin was there, Orcrist in hand, leading the hobbits into mock battle. Bilbo felt more drawn to him, strangely. His presence felt something like safety and protection._

_"Today, we take back Erebor," Thorin proclaimed from a hilltop, the attentive gazes of young hobbits clinging to him. "We take back our home, our future!"_

_The hobbits cheered loudly, lifting their wooden swords and spears above their heads. Thorin turned to lead them in their charge and Bilbo, along with the other hobbits, followed enthusiastically. They ran through the Shire with loud battle cries, trampling gardens and fields until they finally reached their destination: the mountain._

_They all grew still and quiet, watching the round stone door in the mountain with wary looks. They all turned to Bilbo expectantly._

_Right. This was it. The time had come for her to fulfill her end of the contract and prove herself a burglar._

_Bilbo gripped her Elvish blade so tightly that her knuckles turned white, but she pulled back her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. Then, with a confidence she wasn't sure was real or not, Bilbo strode to the door and shoved it open to reveal -_

_Bag End._

_She paused, brows furrowing in confusion. Surely this wasn't Erebor?_

_Bilbo turned around, intent on asking Thorin if he really had the right mountain, but found another surprise. Thorin was no longer behind her. Instead, there was but a lone hobbit: Fredegar._

_"What are you -?" she began to ask, but his lips were suddenly upon hers and his hands were tugging at her dress and he was pushing her down, down..._

_"No no no no no," she chanted, trying her best to break away. Thorin was there again, standing in her entryway and watching in silence. Bilbo screamed at him, "Help me! Please!"_

_But Thorin merely crossed his arms and leaned back up against a wall, making himself comfortable._

_"Why are you doing this?" Bilbo was screaming, though at who she wasn't sure. "Please!"_

_Then Lobelia was there, heaving an exasperated sigh. "Oh, Bilbo," she tsked, shaking her head. "Are you really going to try to deny your husband? Don't be coy, you know this is what you want."_

_Lobelia reached down to tug Fredegar off of Bilbo and to his feet. "Come with me," she told him with a flirtatious smile, pressing her body up against his. "You deserve a better wife than one who cares nothing for her husband's pleasure. I will show you how a_ proper _wife behaves."_

_Relief and jealousy warred in Bilbo's heart and she curled herself into a ball, hands clamped down over her ears and hoping she could just make it all disappear..._

* * *

"-ilbo." There was a voice in her ear. "Bilbo, wake up. You're safe. You're okay."

Bilbo sat straight up in her bedroll, her head nearly colliding with that of the dwarf kneeling at her side.

"Sorry," said the dwarf. He pulled back from her, giving her room, but the hovering didn't diminish.

"Bofur?" Bilbo guessed, spotting the outline of the familiar hat through the darkness.

"Aye," he replied. He reached out a hand as if to comfort her but quickly dropped it. "You okay?"

Bilbo took a deep breath and admitted, "Not really, no."

Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light the glowing embers of their campfire gave off, letting Bilbo witness the sad smile directed at her.

"You're on watch?" Bilbo asked after a moment where the only sound was that of snoring dwarves. Bofur nodded.

Bilbo knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep after such a dream. She held out a hand to Bofur expectantly, and the dwarf's eyes brightened as he clasped her hand and helped her to her feet. Bilbo kept hold of his hand and tugged him close, wrapping her arms around him. Bofur made a surprised sound, but his arms immediately came up to hold her.

"Thank you for waking me," said Bilbo, her voice muffled by his shoulder. She gave him a tight squeeze around the middle and then released him.

"'Course," Bofur said with a smile. "Like Thorin told you, we're at your service. We want you to be happy."

That, of course, just made Bilbo hug him again. She smiled faintly into his jacket. She could still hardly fathom the kindness and acceptance her dwarves were showing her.

* * *

Thorin pulled Bilbo aside the next morning as the company readied to move on.

"Are you sure you wish to carry on with us?" he inquired, his eyes flitting from her face to her stomach and back again. "The road will only grow more perilous. You would be much safer if you returned to the elves, loath though I am to say so."

Bilbo had spent a good portion of the early morning hours sitting with Bofur as he kept watch, silently contemplating these exact thoughts. The troll incident had lingered at the forefront of her mind. They had nearly died that night, had come so close to being eaten. And that danger paled in comparison to the dragon that lay at the end of their road, not to mention the other troubles they were sure to attract before then. But still, Bilbo didn't want to turn back. After thinking long and hard about why she felt this way, Bilbo had come face to face with the truth: she had grown far too attached to these dwarves and was beginning to love them like family. No matter where this path might lead, Bilbo was glad for the opportunity to spend more time with them.

"I'm sure," she told Thorin. "Very sure."

And so the company of Thorin Oakenshield, complete with their hobbit burglar, continued east into the Misty Mountains.


	7. the empty cradle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And this is where it all goes to shit...
> 
> #sorry #ilivefortheangst

 

Bilbo could not turn back now, even if she wanted to. The path the company had taken across the high pass was gone. Not completely, of course, but chunks were missing now and new obstacles presented themselves thanks to the thunder battle that had taken place. The company had sought shelter in the first cave they had found, cold, wet, and shaken.

Bofur tugged gently at her hand, guiding her across the cave to where Bifur and Bombur were settling in. Nearby, Fili and Kili had seemingly melded into one being. The brothers were clutching each other so tightly and with such desperation that Bilbo wasn't sure they would ever let go again.

Thorin stood solemnly at the entrance to the cave, his eyes seeking out each member of the company in turn, again and again, as if unable to convince himself that they were all alive.

Bilbo was as shaken as the others, if not more so. She had nearly fallen to her death and had been saved at the very last second by Thorin. Her aching fingers and the stinging cuts that sliced through her palms were a nagging reminder of just how close she had come to dying.

She thought she wouldn't be able to sleep, but she managed to doze for a while with her head on Bombur's shoulder.

And then the world fell out from underneath her yet again.

* * *

When Bilbo regained consciousness, she knew something was wrong.

Of course, her friends had been captured by goblins and were quite possibly dead, and she had been separated from them. A lot of things had gone wrong more quickly than she could have imagined. But that was not what terrified Bilbo the most. Something was wrong with _her,_ with her body.

Sharp pain radiated through her stomach and her entire body was wracked with chills. Her head ached, too. She must have hit it during the fall, she knew, but had no explanation for the other pains that plagued her.

Bilbo opened her eyes to find mostly darkness, but also a faint blue glow off to her side. It hurt to move, and the hobbit wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball until her aches and pains passed. But that was not an option. Bilbo pushed herself up carefully, hissing as the pain in her stomach and head intensified. Her hand found the hilt of her glowing Elvish sword and she leaned heavily on it as she tried to stand.

She took a moment to catalog her surroundings: the patch of mushrooms that had cushioned her landing, the bones that littered the floor around her, the surprising absence of the goblin that had fallen with her, a golden ring that glinted in the light of her sword (which she absently picked up and dropped into the pocket of her waistcoat), and the rhythmic thudding that was echoing through the cavern. Walking on silent hobbit feet toward the sound, Bilbo's keen ears detected a faint, strange voice. Her grip tightened around the hilt of the sword and she had to force herself to continue forward.

A moment later, she paused. The strange feeling permeating her body had intensified yet again, and she was now beginning to notice a wetness between her legs. She brought her sword a little closer to her body to see it better in the light. A dark stain was blooming in the seat of her trousers. Terror rang through her as she realized it was blood.

A sharp, agonizing sensation lanced through her stomach, forcing Bilbo to double over in pain. She moaned and clutched at her stomach.

"No no no no no no," she whispered desperately, forcing her body to uncurl slightly. She shook her head, hoping beyond all hope that she was mistaken.

But what else could the blood mean? Comprehension overwhelmed her, swift and vicious-

The child growing within her lived no longer.

Her free arm curled around the small bump of her stomach and she hunched in on herself again, trying to hold back a sob.

Suddenly, the blue glow that was her only light source flickered and faded.

"What is it, precious?" a rough voice called from just ahead of her, and Bilbo screamed in surprise. "Is it tasty? Is it scrumptious?"

"Get away from me," Bilbo demanded, unable to hide the fear in her shaking voice. She drew herself up to her full height despite the way the pain seemed to intensify. The trembling hand that cradled her stomach rose up to grip the sword. Perhaps if she held it with two hands it would cease it's quivering.

"Can we eats it, precious?"

The voice was closer now, and the hobbit desperately searched the darkness for the source. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and now she could see a figure creeping forward over the rocks. It was shorter than she, especially hunched over as it was, and was horribly emaciated. It was wearing nothing more than a dingy cloth around its waist and huge bright eyes stared up at her through strands of sparse, matted hair.

For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other.

Then Bilbo began to scramble backwards, and the creature was spurred into movement. It sprang swiftly forward, the expression on it's face twisting into some terrible parody of a smile. Terrified, Bilbo raised the sword in her hands and thrust it toward the creature.

What seemed to be only a moment later, Bilbo found herself blinking down at the crumpled figure on the ground. Blood dripped from her sword.

The hobbit turned away from the body and was promptly violently ill.

* * *

Bilbo stood there, frozen to the spot, as time seemed to stand still. She could not bring herself to look at the body of the creature she had just killed. Her second murder of the day, her mind whispered treacherously. Her heart seemed to drop out of her chest and she could sense her breathing beginning to quicken.

She moved past the body, not sure where she was headed but certain that she couldn't linger in this horrid cavern.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness as she picked her way carefully across the rocks, her sword held aloft in front of her in case she ran into another dangerous creature. Suddenly there was a splash and Bilbo gasped as chilly, slimy water submerged her foot. She scrambled backwards, clutching tightly to the rock she was on. She peered out across the stagnant pool of water and saw nothing. There was no movement and no noise aside from her own harsh breathing.

Bilbo took a deep breath in an effort to steady herself.

She took another breath. And another. And another.

Eventually, Bilbo roused herself from her stupor.

The blood. She needed to get rid of the blood. Bilbo toed her way back to the water's edge, then knelt. She began with her sword, cleaning it carefully. Then she set it aside and began to scrub at her hands.

She couldn't get them clean. Why wouldn't they come clean?

She scrubbed and scrubbed until her hands were raw. She was finally about to give up when she realized that her clothes were still covered in blood.

Off came her trousers. Bilbo worked furiously to remove the blood. The cool damp air against her bare legs and the rocks digging into her skin were motivation to work quickly.

* * *

Finally, Bilbo remembered that she must move on. Her eyes were finally adjusted to the darkness, but Bilbo still couldn't see whether or not her trousers had come clean. But it would have to be good enough for now. She slipped the wet clothing back on, shivering intensifying. Perhaps washing her clothes hadn't been her best idea? There was nothing to be done about it now, so sword clutched in one hand and the other extended in front of her so she wouldn't run into a wall, Bilbo began to walk.

It felt as though eyes were tracking her from the dark voids of the caverns and tunnels. Her heart was pounding. Paranoia consumed her. Had that shadow moved? Was there something else lurking in the dark? Another hungry creature who thought she might make a fine meal?

To distract herself and to break the silence, Bilbo began to sing under her breath, her voice wavering in and out, and sometimes not audible at all.

"... Misty Mountains cold... caverns old... must away ere break of day..."

She thought of her dwarves, captured by goblins and most likely dead. Wherever they were, dead or not, Bilbo hoped she could join them. The emptiness of these mountain caverns unsettled her greatly.

* * *

At long last, the hobbit stumbled out into the sunlight.

"You have much to answer for, old man!" Thorin's voice was loud and harsh to Bilbo's ears after spending so long in silence. "You claimed hobbits to be good and kindly beings even as you _let this happen_."

Gandalf's voice was half placating, half puzzled, "I assure you I don't know to what you are referring. And I thought you were all beginning to like Bilbo?"

"We love Bilbo," said another voice, which Bilbo thought might be Fili's. She was growing closer now; the voices were becoming clearer. "It's the other hobbits who are despicable."

"I -" Gandalf started, now sounding very concerned, but Balin interrupted.

"This conversation can be continued later. Bilbo is missing and we must find her."

Bilbo stepped into the clearing which held the company and stared blankly. There were thirteen dwarves and a wizard before her, safe and sound. She tried to feel relief at this, but could not drag the feeling to the surface of her mind when it was so consumed by despair. Bilbo wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and cease to exist, but she forced her mouth open anyway.

"I'm here," she said, voice barely a whisper. The dwarves didn't hear it. Bilbo let her eyes fall closed for a moment and took a deep breath. Opening them, she said again, louder, "I'm here."

The company startled and turned to look at her with a mixture of shock and relief.

"Bilbo!" Kili cried, rushing forward to embrace her. He wrapped his arms around her, chattering on about how worried we were about you and you wouldn't believe how fat the goblin king was and where did you disappear to? Bilbo never managed to convince her arms to return the embrace, and after a few moments, Kili pulled back, uncertain. His hands stayed on her shoulders and he looked at her carefully, growing more concerned with each passing moment. "Bilbo? Bilbo, are you alright?"

Bilbo continued to stare at the trees behind Kili, wondering numbly when the other dwarves had come so close.

"Move, lad," Oin was saying as he pushed Kili aside. He looked her carefully up and down, his eyes coming to rest on the blood stains Bilbo had been unable to scrub from her trousers. He let out a vehement curse in Khuzdul.

"What is it?" Thorin demanded, moving forward. The rest of the company obediently stepped aside to let him through. Thorin came close to Bilbo, but didn't touch her. "What has happened?"

Oin ignored him in favor of barking out orders. "I need a blanket or spare clothing. Something warm. Quickly, now. Give me a waterskin. There's a lad. Now move back, all of you. Give her some room to breathe."

A blanket fell across Bilbo's shoulders and Oin shook her gently to catch her attention.

"Sit down, Bilbo," he said and Bilbo obediently sunk down to the ground, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She shivered.

"Now," Oin began, but quickly fell silent along with the rest of the dwarves.

A warg was howling, and it was too close for comfort.

"We must move," Gandalf urged, appearing suddenly to tug Bilbo to her feet. "Run."

Bilbo was unsteady on her feet, swaying slightly as the blanket slid from her shoulders. A single glance at her convinced Thorin that she was in no state to stand on her own, let alone run for her life. He quickly swept her up into his arms, clutching her tightly to his chest as he turned to follow Gandalf. The rest of the dwarves followed quickly after, falling into a protective formation around their leader and their hobbit.

Bilbo's hand clenched around a fistful of Thorin's tunic. She desperately wished that she could wake up from this terrible nightmare.


End file.
